


The rebirth of the Dragons

by Heathcliff



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jon aka Aegon Targaryen the Unburnt, Long Live Queen Daenerys, Targ incest, The Daenerys x Maron isn't the old ship but a more OC one, a fic for Dany stans, and she brought a whole dynasty with her, bitch she's back, don't read this fic if you love the starks, for fire and blood, not for you, the only way for me to get over that shitty ending, this is for house targaryen, will add ships and character with every new ones introduced
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-08-20 17:10:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20231422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heathcliff/pseuds/Heathcliff
Summary: Westeros thought they had seen the last of the tyrant rulers and were finally at peace. But they had doomed themselves the day they vouched for the wrong King.On the east, the last Dragon rises again. And is no longer the last one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So before you start reading this fic, you have to know that:  
1\. I haven't written fics in over 3 years so my writing is MEH  
2\. I have never written medieval/war fics so more MEH  
3\. But i love Dany so fucking much and she deserves happiness and love and power AND I WILL GIVE THEM TO HER  
4\. Also I barely read the books and don't have a good memory so there might be some inconsistency  
5\. I hate the Starks

A roar filled the air as Drogon landed on the burnt ground of a mountainous island. The sky was dark and cloudy when he laid her body, delicately, careful to not harm her more than she already was. She stayed motionless, her heart had stopped beating long hours before when the man she trusted the most stabbed it, the Valyrian steel dagger still deep in it. 

The dragon cried, loud, softly brushing her body close to his five eggs. He stepped back and opened his mouth before throwing a molt of fire, engulfing her and them. He then lowered his body and watched them burn for hours and hours, never losing his attention from them.

The sky had lightened when it ceased. There was no longer clouds and dawn was appearing behind them when the last smoke rose. Drogon had stayed still, waiting for it to cease, eyes set on the biggest figure of the six. One by one, the eggs hatched. A small red dragon with golden scales pushed his head out of the shell and took small steps on the burnt stone. A cream and red one followed him before being joined by purple and cream one. Then a green and bronze one, a sapphire and silver one, trailed behind. Together, they slowly walked toward the naked figure laying before them. 

She suddenly rose, abruptly at first, coughing and scanning her surroundings in fear before locking eyes with Drogon. She watched as he purred in relief before his stare landed lower. She followed it and watched as five dragon babies, one by one, climbed on her thighs, squealing as she naturally petted them, tears welling in her eyes at sight of her new children. 

She looked around her gasping at the sudden realization. She had been brought to Old Valyria, home to her ancestors, where she was reborn, through the most ancient magic. 

One of the dragons nuzzled his head against her warm belly, bringing her back from her thoughts. He felt life inside her. She gently placed her hand on her tummy, feeling two different kinds of warmth. She smiled, tears flowing down her cheeks, aware then. For all the injustice and loneliness, she had been subjected to, hope and love has been brought back to her new life. And she was going to protect it at all costs.

******

The Queen in the North made one last toast, beaming at the lords and ladies surrounding her. She couldn’t be happier, finally being crown as the rightful ruler of the North, a North her brother and mother fought to make independent before her. A North, her cousin had to give up on after killing another queen. She swallowed, a small feeling of guilt washing over her. It was after all partly her fault he did what he did. He knew how much he loved her but she let Tyrion and his likings turn against her and in finality, manipulate him against her.

But it was for the greater good after all, she convinced herself. She ended up being right about her. She was mad just like her father and with her death, Targaryens were no longer a threat for the realm. The North was hers forever and the six kingdoms were ruled by her brother. Nothing could ever harm the Stark family. 

She stood up, excusing herself and walked out of the hall, searching for her sibling. He was the only one present at her coronation, as it was traditional for other Kings and Queens to attend a neighboring one’s coronation. She stepped outside, knowing he would be at the Weirwood tree as he had been most of the time when he was still at Winterfell. 

Her footsteps were silent in the thick snow. She noticed another small form standing next to her brother, wary, she slowed down. 

“Your grace, I do not understand why you want to find Drogon so badly. In my opinion, we are better without that beast here.” A voice she recognized as Tyrion spoke, clearly tired. 

“I need to finish what I started.” Bran replied, calm. 

Sansa froze, what was he talking about, she wondered.

“What do you mean, your grace.” The hand asked, clearly as startled as her.

“Evil shall be removed. I succeeded in removing it from King’s Landing but more cities are still filled with darkness.” 

“Do you mean evil rulers, your grace? Have you seen other rulers with her madness?” Tyrion questioned, voice trembling with doubt.

“She was never evil, Tyrion.” Bran looked then at him, still as calm. “But she was a useful tool to me. And I will need her dragon to burn the rest of the people.” 

Sansa flinched. It couldn’t be, she knew Bran could control ravens from a distance but he couldn’t have done that to the late queen. He couldn’t have burnt thousands of innocents. The Bran she knew couldn’t have such thoughts. 

“You’re surprised.” Bran asked, rhetorically before staring in her direction, sensing her presence. 

“Daenerys believed too much in the smallfolk. Even if she saw the future I saw, she would still have spared them.” He added, confirming their fearful doubts. “I have seen those women cheat and lie, those children rape and steal. They didn’t deserve to live. No one in this realm is worth living.” 

Sansa couldn’t find her voice as she stared at her once brother, cold running down her spine. They had thought they had freed themselves from madness, but they had vouched for a much greater one. And they were doomed for it.

******

Fire in the chimney burnt with more intensity as he added woods in it. The snow storm outside was hissing at him, shaking the whole cabin he had finished building only weeks before. The white wolf nuzzled against him, warming him with what he could, sensing the coldness. 

“It is alright Ghost.” He chuckled, half-heartedly. “I probably deserve to never feel warmth.” He added, giving up on the weak fire, going down with the winds. 

Maybe it was a sign, he wondered. He had nothing left to live for. He was revived for a purpose that ceased the night of the battle with death. No, it ceased much after, the day he had murdered the woman he loved the most. It was for the greater good, he had thought prior to his act. But he had instantly regretted it. How had he wished Drogon burnt him seven months before.

Yet he was still alive, dreaming every night of her betrayed eyes, her tears as she felt the dagger inside her heart, the disappearing sensation of her lips on his as she broke the kiss, realizing what he had done to her.

He might have deserved this never-ending guilt, this unfulfilling life but he wished he could die anytime and join her in the aftertime, beg for her forgiveness, accept to stay by her side, to rule with her. Tears felt cold on his cheeks, trying to imagine her face, her touch as she might embrace him again.

Suddenly the fire burnt higher and the storm ceased. His hour hadn’t come yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fifteen years later, the North has to deal with a threatening issue.
> 
> On the East, Daenerys has remade her life. But her thoughts still drift to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm overwhelmed with the positive feedback. I didn't expect it and I'm really happy and thankful to all of you.
> 
> Now for the negative feedback...for the inconsistency, as I admitted, I barely read the books and have little memory (so might have forgotten some stuff said in the Show). This is a fanfic though. It is not meant to be completely coherent with asoiaf's facts. It is not meant to be taken seriously either. It is just my way of getting over that awful season and share my ideas. Nothing less, nothing more.
> 
> As for the ship tag, I'm confused as to why I shouldn't use it? I'm not intending to make them interact from the first chapters mainly because  
1\. They're on two different continents  
2\. Jon betrayed and KILLED Dany, she won't run to his arms from day 1 obviously or else I would've named myself dumb & dumber  
3\. How is not having their direct interactions in every chapter making the tag irrelevant? It's not like the fic is centered over another Dany's ship. They still think about each other and they will eventually meet again. Maybe I confused some by saying I would add more ship tags as I introduce them but that i meant mainly the non Dany ones. For that I apologize. 
> 
> That said, again, this is a fanfic, not to be taken seriously. I understand if you don't like it. I'm not forcing it on anyone. You don't have to read it but posting negative comments is a reach. It is a buzzkill and it does makes one less willing to write and share their content. So please refrain from non constructive criticism. 
> 
> Now for everyone else, enjoy :)

“Have we gotten any new raven?” She asked, knowing already the answer to her repeating question. 

“No, your grace. We have resent your letter as you requested, but we haven’t gotten any back.” The boy replied. 

Sansa sighed. She expected it but she tried to have some hope. She had to. The North was starving. The food they had prior to Winter was over years before and the very few animals they could get their hands on lessened until there was only one boar per village. Then they had to ration it until they could only feed one out of ten and it usually was the one with the highest birth. 

At first, she thought it would pass, pleasing the lords was more important than the mere smallfolk with no power on her reign. But she had been so wrong. It only got worse. The starving would stop working, revolt and no amount of beating, punishing or little bribes could stop them. 

At that, she had to swallow hard her pride and ask the neighboring Kingdoms for help, including King’s Landing. But between those who were already suffering from the same disease and her brother set on letting it happen, even having a major role in it, she was growing desperate. 

Fifteen years had passed since she had heard him confess in the Weirwood. She knew she should’ve have revealed it but it threatened everything she had fought for back then. She had been blinded by her needs and pride, she realized now. 

There could have been some sort of peace, had she kept Jon’s secret for herself. Daenerys could be leading and there would be not a single hungry mouth. She might’ve had to give up her title for it but she would’ve still been a warden of something. Almost nothing was left of the people she had started reigning over. They were dying from starvation and disease. And those who still had some life in them were plotting to overthrow her for her incompetence. 

“Send another raven to King’s Landing.” She turned to face the boy before her. “Write that the Queen of the North will be paying a visit to the King of the Six Kingdoms.” 

If she was to keep the North and herself alive, she might as well put all of her efforts into it. 

*****

She hummed as she braided the silver locks of her daughter, planting a kiss from time to time and gaining a giggle in response. When she was finished, she placed her arms around her and hugged her tightly, feeling her slow and steady breath, her lavender perfumed hair. 

“Mother, you’re suffocating me.” The girl laughed, trying to break from her mother’s embrace, with very little efforts, cherishing her love and warmth. 

“Maybe I love you too much, Missandei.” Daenerys chuckled, pecking her sun kissed cheeks. 

Missandei turned around, smirking “More than Jaehaerys and Daeron?” 

The mother laughed before biting her lips. 

“More than Rhaegal and Visenya?” Missandei asked further, clearly pushing.

“You know I would never admit that.” Daenerys chuckled, brushing softly her cheeks. 

“Oh, you do love me the most.” The girl teased, leaning closer and pecking her mother’s nose, her violet eyes boring into hers. “But it’s okay, it’s our secret.” She winked at her.

“What’s your secret?” Maron asked playfully from the door, before walking toward his daughter and wife. 

“It would not longer be our secret if we told you father.” Missandei chimed, nuzzling her head onto her mother’s chest, protectively. 

“Alright, alright. Now would you free our Queen and let me spend some time with her?” 

“It’s not fair, you spend every night with her.” The girl pouted, hugging her mother and glaring at her father. 

“Could be that I love her more.” He beamed, leaning down and claiming Daenerys lips. She melted into his embrace, almost forgetting her child was still clinging onto her. 

“You couldn’t wait for me to leave, father?” Missandei accused, before freeing herself from under him and walking to the door. “At least Caraxes doesn’t have a husband. She will let me spend the night on her back.” She sneered.

“Missandei, you’re too young to ride her.” Daenerys rose but her daughter had already run away.

“As if that would stop her.” Maron chuckled, leaning on the bed, his fingers traveling to the back of her dress. 

“She’s only 12, what if she falls?” 

“You were only a year older when you became a Khaleesi.” He said, pulling her on his chest. “And she gets that fire from you.” 

She leaned her face down and kissed her husband. She stared then at his violet eyes, so similar to hers. He could’ve passed as a relative but he wasn’t. Not like him. But she was family to him and was above anyone else. That she knew. And for that, she trusted him more than she could ever trust any man. Or a specific one whose betrayal still shone on her chest every time she bared it. 

“What are you thinking about, my love?” He caressed her hair, his voice gentle and soft as he felt her heartbeats on his chest. 

She bit her lips, afraid of being too honest with him. He was of such great support to her and she hated that some days, more than often, another man would occupy her thoughts. 

“It’s him, isn’t it?” He asked, non-threateningly. 

“It is okay. I don’t expect you to forget him. He was important to you once and he gave you such gorgeous children.” He cupped her cheek, eyes staring at her with nothing but love. 

“Even I can’t forget him when I look at Visenya. She looks so much like him, minus her silver locks and violet pupils.” He laughed, gaining a laugh in return. “She could almost pass as mine with those light eyes. Though she is in my heart.” He reassured her. 

Maron Martell hadn’t hesitated to adopt her first born twins, Rhaegal and Visenya. She was surprised back then. Especially as they hadn’t shared a bed for the first two years of their marriage, a marriage to ensure her alliance with Dorne for the great conquest to come. 

She couldn’t bring herself to trust and lay with a man ever again but surprisingly she did. Maron had been so patient and not once had he pressured her. He hadn’t bed any woman all while waiting for her when he could’ve. He was quite a handsome man, possessing his mother, Alarya Dayne's beauty, even her pale lilac eyes and the ever sunkissed skin of his father, Morgan Martell. The maids would still swoop whenever he entered the solar but he had only eyes for her. He was faithful to her from the day they wed and had not once, let her doubt him or doubt herself.

When he wasn’t her husband, he was her loyal advisor, always helping her make the best decisions, the ones that were the safest for her people and her. When he wasn’t her advisor, he would be her best friend, letting her open up to him and embracing all of it, her joys and sorrows. 

He hadn’t felt threatened by her love for a certain northern King, and by all Gods, she had fought every day to replace that love by only hatred. Instead he accepted, sometimes even trying to replace her sad memories with the merry ones she had with him, making her dreams about him a safer place to her. 

She was pulled out of her thoughts when she felt her back on the linen sheets and his lips under her breast, kissing the melted Valyrian steel on her skin. She whimpered softly, drowning as his lips traveled deeper and lower as he wanted to show her how much he loved her. 

*****

The breeze on his skin was chilling but not too cold. It was pleasant, the air having been heavy and warm the past days. He laid still on his red and gold dragon, Balerion, the scales hot against his naked back. His sister and him felt a very strong connection to their dragons. Their mother would often tell them they had given their lives to them and were in turn, reborn again. She would also tell them Balerion was the first to sense them in her belly. 

Their bond was in consequence very strong, sometimes much stronger to the ones their siblings had with theirs. 

Balerion softly moved, sensing an approaching presence, waking him up from his almost slumber. The grounds moved as another dragon landed next to them. It was a purple and one, Caraxes.

“Brother, what are you doing so far at this hour?” A soft familiar voice asked. 

He was miles away from the city, waiting on a grassed oasis, water coursing next to them. 

“I could ask you the same, Missandei.” He retorted, without rising from his position. 

The younger was about to reply back when another figure approached, this time on foot. 

“Rhaegal and I wanted to take a bath in the fresh waters.” It was Visenya. She had her white silk robe clinging to her wet skin, useless in hiding her nakedness. Rhaegal rose up then, swallowing at the sight. The moonlight exposed her curved and muscled frame, making the water gleam on her breasts, abs and toned thighs. And it reflected brightly on her soaked silver hair, sticking to her ivory skin. If only Missandei wasn’t there, he thought, frustrated. 

“Guess I’m disturbing yet another couple.” The younger sighed, staring knowingly at both. 

They both looked at her alerted but before they could object, she flew away with Caraxes as fast as she had landed. 

“You think she knows?” Visenya asked, worried. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised, there is nothing we can hide from that one.” Rhaegal laughed before extending his hand to his sister, as he climbed down Balerion’s scales. 

“I’m afraid mother would know too, what would she think?” There was still concern in her voice as she let him pull her closer to him while they sat on the fresh grass.

“I’m sure mother wouldn’t mind, her parents were siblings and we know she and our.” He paused, searching for the right word to describe the father he never met. “spawner were relatives.” 

“You’re right but I’d prefer we keep it a secret.” She replied, cupping his face, her violet eyes boring in his. He looked so much like their mother, almost a twin to her though he was much taller. But he had her eyes, her nose, her lips, even her cheekbones. Well she had those too. However, every time she looked in the mirror, she saw someone else, a parent she had never met. She had the same hair and eye colour as her mother and siblings but everything else was different. She often wondered about their spawner, as Rhaegal had just called him, yet she never dared question her mother about him. 

She had only spoken about him once, when they were children and asked her why their skin colour was different from their younger siblings. She told them she had known a man she had loved years ago, someone she had believed in but she had barely continued the tale, a lump caught in her throat. Ever since then, they hadn’t wondered again, afraid to see the look of heartache in their mother’s face. 

She suddenly felt his pecks on her jaw. His lips were soft on her wet skin. His breath hot against it. His hands traveled to her back, slipping to the curve under her hips. She wanted to melt in his embrace, let him take her being, devour her and make her whole again. But she knew it was dangerous, dangerous for the war to come. 

“Rhaegal, we can’t.” She gently pushed him though it didn’t stop him as he nipped on her defined collarbone.

“Why sister?” He whispered, voice raw with hunger for her. 

“Our games, they need to stop.” She warned, this time pushing him harder and making him face her.

“They’re not games for me. I love you.” He murmured, cupping her cheeks, eyes begging for closure.

“I…I love you too. More than anything in the world.” She replied, desperate. Desperate to not lose control over herself. “But we have to be ready for Mother’s conquest. Our conquest. And that might mean forming allegiances with other houses. Like she did with the Martell and Dayne ones.” She was fighting hard not to succumb to his loving gaze. 

“That matter is far beyond us. Marriages are just a possibility but not in plan.” 

“Still a possibility. I’m the only Targaryen girl with our sister and knowing how much Dorne love her and still mourn her grand aunt, they won’t let her marry anyone else outside that Kingdom. That and her being too young to wed.”

“And you’re not? We’re only fifteen, Visenya.” His voice rose, irritated by her arguments. “We’re only talking about a possibility that might not even happen. Why would you push me this soon? We’ve always been together and I just can’t see myself without you by my side.” 

She knew she was hurting him as much as she was hurting herself by denying him. Denying his touch and kisses and warmth. She wanted nothing else than all that but she was aware she would lose herself in it, lose herself in him if she was to give more. 

“I have to save myself.” She replied, trying to hold his gaze. “I have to save my maidenhead for my husband.” 

Rhaegal gasped, almost at loss for words before erupting into laughter. “Your maidenhead? You have to be kidding me?” He held hard on his stomach, his giggling loud in the air. 

“Don’t mock me!” Visenya warned but he didn’t stop.

“Oh, my sweet Visenya. You’ve lost your maidenhead years ago when you started riding Meraxes.” He faced her, still chuckling, noticing her sudden blush. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Visenya rose, offended but he stood up just as fast, grabbing her by her arms. 

“This maybe husband of yours wouldn’t feel the difference if you were to theoretically lose it with me.” He sneered, though whispering at the end with his deep hungry voice. 

She felt her face heat at his words and pushed as hard as she could before running away. He laughed some more then followed her, trying to catch her but that was without counting on her bound with Meraxes. The cream and red dragon landed seconds after she had pushed him, feeling her rider’s despair and letting her climb on her back swiftly before flying again, far from him. 

Rhaegal watched them slowly disappear before sighing, defeated and a bit mad at his own self. He could be such an arsehole sometimes. 

He walked back, toward Balerion. He had to redeem herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would love to have your view on this (no negativity please, I have my limit :( ) 
> 
> This chapter was reedited with Maron's parentage changed. Since I'm very bad at dates, I confused Dany's birth date with her start of reigning...and thought there was a huge age gap between her and Arianne which makes little sense since they're from the same generation. So I made some OC characters. I hope that's okay. 
> 
> \- I haven't introduced all "new" characters yet but you've got 2 new ships here ;) Also if anyone's wondering, Rhaegal and Visenya's names were to honour Rhaegal and Viserion, Daenerys' dragons, not her brother Rhaegar and the Queen Visenya. Though that latter reference will come and bite some character in the ass (slight spoiler). 
> 
> \- I named Daenerys' husband without knowing there is actually a Dany x Maron ship, as in Dany her ancestor and his.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys has a revealing dream. Arianne receives yet another threat. And farther east, another dragon awakens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I edited Maron's parentage in the previous chapter to avoid more confusion. Arianne has the same age as in the book. Thank you for correcting me.

Cold winds rose around her. Her eyes shot open, taking in her surroundings. White, nothing but white thick snow. She had never seen this much. Beside that one time, sixteen years before, when she flew with Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion to the latter’s death. Her heart’s sunk a bit at the painful memory. She stood up, covering her arms from the cold her silk gown did nothing against. She walked barefoot, feeling for the first time a sensation keen to burning in her toes. 

A screech made her turn on her tracks. And she saw him. Her precious child, laying on the snow, calling for her. She ran to him, mindless of the intense pain cursing through her feet and legs. 

“Viserion!” She cried, taking his snoot in her burning hands. 

He yelped and purred under her touch. She leaned her head on his scales, tears slipping on her cheeks. She had missed him and not a day passed without her regretting ever taking him on this deadly trip. 

“He was the sweetest.” A foreign voice startled her. She looked up and what she saw drained all the blood from her face.

“You..” She stepped back, frightened. What she thought was a comforting dream turned out to be a nightmare. The Night King stood before her and she was doomed to relive the cruel death of her child. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.” He advanced but stopped seeing her retreating. 

His voice was surprisingly soft and gentle for a monstrosity. It was her first time hearing him ever speak. She thought he was as mute as dead. As if to defy her prejudice even more, he placed his hand on Viserion’s snoot and petted him, much to the dragon’s delight. 

“I was going to give him his life back.” He turned then around, his face gradually reaching a more natural, alive colour. “Once I was finished, I was going to give him back to you.” 

“Stop touching him!” She screamed, this time moving toward him. She couldn’t bear the sight of his murderous touch on Viserion. Not again. 

She pushed him, threw fists at his chest but he stood still, calm. She looked up, her vision blurred from her tears but she could see it then. His face was no longer blue but naturally fair skinned, his eyes had also changed colours and were lilac and his icy crown had disappeared, leaving light brown curls, blending with silver ones. 

She gaped in shock but he held her gently before she could retreat again. 

“I’m sorry for the pain I gave you, child. Had I succeeded, I would’ve taken it all back.” 

“You are…” 

“A Valyrian. A Dragonlord even once.” He added, smiling, his hands strangely warm on her skin. All the pain she had felt in her members was disappearing. 

“I don’t understand.” She gasped, in loss and pure confusion. She was told how the Night King was born. One of the First Men, transformed by the Children of the Forest. Yet she had never heard stories of Valyrians coming to Westeros that early in history. 

“How do you think I was immune to dragon fire?” He asked, rhetorically, his smile faltering at her unchanged confused and frightened expression. 

“I was made to protect the Children of the Forest from men. They knew men like me, like us, could come on the back of their Dragons and they couldn’t risk just any man to enchant.” He explained, his hold easing. “They chose an unburnt. Fire could kill my army but I would’ve kept rising and making more like me.” 

“But you didn’t protect them, you killed them.” He couldn’t possibly fool her. She saw him killing her child, her brave people with his army and she knew of the innocents he hadn’t spared.

“It was necessary.” He replied, stern.  
“Necessary? Why did you have to take him from me?” She yelled, tears flowing back. 

“If I hadn’t, the Three Eyed Raven would have done it. Like he would have with every single person I had taken from him.” He answered, calm, his eyes searching for her understanding. “I took giants, warriors and I thought I would find him in time, before he crossed the wall but he flew.” He paused, realizing she was even more disoriented. 

“The Three Eyed Raven, he was the real danger. He had filled the Children of the Forest’s minds of his lies and illusions, convincing them I was the evil coming to the realm. But he was. His power was growing and once he was beyond the wall in Bran Stark’s body, he was unstoppable.” 

“But he said you wanted to bring darkness upon the realms, that you wanted to swipe the past.”

“Like he told you you were burning Lannister soldiers to save your men instead of innocents?” 

Daenerys could feel her breathe caught in her throat, realization dawning upon her. Had she burnt innocents? It couldn’t be, she could still hear her Khalassar and Unsullied screaming for her help, she could still the red and gold cloaks overpowering them and hurting them. 

“His goal is only destruction of the human kind. He was going to use every mind he could cloud with his illusions to execute it. Including yours.” 

“But you used my child.” She protested. She couldn’t find the courage to believe him, it would’ve meant she had committed an unforgiving atrocity. And she couldn’t forgive him either for taking Viserion from her. 

“And I would’ve given him back to you, alive and free, once I’ve had killed the Three Eyed Raven. But I failed, and every person I had taken in my army died forever with me. He took that choice from them when he lied to all of you.”

A lump formed in her throat, realizing her child would’ve still been alive had the long night ended differently. The Three Eyed Raven took him her. As he had taken her free will later on. 

“He still has to be stopped Daenerys.” The man cupped her cheek, looking in an almost fatherly way at her. “And only you and your kin can.” 

“No, he would use me again. He would use them even.” She objected, fearful.

“He no longer has power over you. You are undead, Daenerys Stormborn. And the magic of Old Valyria flows through your touch. You were reborn in it and it will follow you wherever you go. Learn how to use it.” He placed his other hand on her cheek, cupping both. 

“You’re a Dragon and Dragons are not slaves.” 

She opened her eyes then, waking up from the dream, her mind as clear as water. She rose from her bed, careful to not wake Maron and walked to the vast balcony. There Drogon waited, silent, hearing her thoughts, maybe even sharing her dream. She caressed his warm scales as she climbed on his back.

‘To Valyria’ She said in her mind and her child flew away. 

***

Soft whimpers filled the hot baths. Water drops falling echoing in the room. They were alone and she was melting into the pleasure. 

“Don’t stop.” Arianne moaned, trapping the man between her thighs. She was so close. 

“Your Grace?” 

So close and her maester had just ruined it. It seemed privacy was a rare thing in the palace, but then again, she was the ruler of it. She didn’t possess intimacy. 

“I hope it is important enough for you to interrupt me.” She threatened, unmoving. Maybe she could still finish. 

“Forgive me, your Grace. We have received another worrying letter from King’s Landing.” 

“Do tell.” 

“But your Grace.” The maester protested, eyeing the shape under the water. 

“Whatever it is, I’m pretty sure I will handle it like every single threat they sent and that is no secret to my people.” She answered his unasked question. 

The old man sighed and opened the letter. 

“Dear Lady Arianne Martell,

We urge you to destroy the wall you have built. Dorne has been part of the six kingdoms for centuries and should stay as that. May you fail to act this order, you shall face the royal army in two moons.

The Hand of the King.”

A loud laugher escaped her mouth as soon as he finished reading. The man with her had pulled his head out of the water and was chuckling along.  
“The royal army?” She chimed, “What is it made of? The stupid dwarf, the giant lady and the greedy sellsword?” She laughed louder at her own suggested answer. 

“I can’t believe Tyrion Lannister thought I would tremble with this. How pathetic.” Her tone slightly changed as she calmed down and stood up, stepping out of the pool. Wrapping her body in a towel, she walked toward the maester and took the letter from him. 

“Let that imp and his crippled king bring their three men army. It will be entertaining to see them try.” She sneered as she creased the piece of paper and left the room. 

It was funny to her how the Lannister persisted with his harmless threats. He was either stupid or brave. Either way, he should’ve learned by now his attempts were fruitless. 

When her counselor came back from King’s Landing and informed her of the new assigned King and organization, she instantly started planning her separation from the kingdoms. There was no way she would be ruled by some incompetent northerner. She was furious to learn he had granted his sister’s independence when Dorne and the Iron Lands had backed the previous ruler for a potential promise of one. Without whom, they wouldn’t be alive. She cared very little for the gruesome details. The people of King’s Landing mattered very little to her. She was pretty sure Ashara had shared her thoughts and had back then sent a trusted messenger, to ensure a potential alliance if the King was to send the other Kingdoms’ soldiers. 

The messenger followed Ashara all the way to Essos and Meereen during one of her trips and when he came back with a peculiar information, Arianne knew she had to plan differently. She left Dorne in trusted hands and took her cousin Maron with her in a merchant’s boat, travelling carefully without bringing suspicion upon them. The information had to stay secret in order for her plot to go well. 

She gawked when she saw her then. The report was indeed true. Daenerys Targaryen was alive and pregnant. And she had more dragons, one even being nursed at her breast when she found her, sitting with calm and confidence in the solar. 

“I came with a proposal.” She had told her.

“Make it quick. As you can see, I’m taking care of many children. Motherhood can be exhausting.” She was cold, uninviting. She couldn’t blame her though, she had little trust in the Westerosi people. But they shared a goal and Arianne had to let her know about it.

“I came to help you take back Westeros.” 

Daenerys was in shock at first but her face darkened then. “What makes you think I want to take back Westeros?”

“Because it was taken from you twice, very unfairly the second time. Why should anyone but you claim your throne and enjoy the fruits of your efforts? You freed them from a Tyrant yet they took your life and put a child in your place. Why should you stay here while they claim your victory?”

Her words stirred something in the mother of dragons and she could see her hesitation as she looked down at the whelp in her arms then at her round stomach. She had probably entertained those thoughts before but decided against them. She had to put other needs before hers. 

“I am not suggesting you take it now. You’re with child and I cannot offer you a strong army just yet.” She disclosed, voice comforting. She walked closer to the queen as she spoke. 

“Your dragons and future child have yet to grow and my army has yet to evolve. But in years to come, you and I will be strong and together, we will take back your throne from the usurpers.” 

“I believe your aid comes with conditions?” Daenerys lifted her eyes to meet her gaze.

“It does.” Arianne confirmed and turned around, nudging Maron to come forward. The man had been in awe with the Queen the moment they entered her solar, though he kept his cool and kept his stare respectful, avoiding looking at her bare breast. 

“I propose an alliance through marriage with my cousin, Maron Martell. And a second one between your first offspring with him and mine.” And that they both inherit the throne before your first child, but she kept that thought for herself. 

“It would be my honour.” Maron kneeled and leaned to kiss her ring, missing the flushing red on her face. Arianne had chosen the right cousin. Daenerys might have known some very handsome men in her life and she might have gotten used to their easy attention but she had never met Maron. He was the most beautiful man in Dorne and probably in all the realm, she thought proudly. It was a mistake the first time to let her bland brother come. Maron would’ve been the better choice. No women could resist him, yet he was no player and had a strong sense of honour and faithfulness, reminding her of the last man the Queen loved. 

She truthfully chose the right candidate for her plot. 

“You will be Daenerys Martell. It could prevent suspicions about your true identity in Westeros and it will allow you some peace until we are strong enough for the conquest. And imagine how poetic it could be for a second marriage alliance with yet another Daenerys Targaryen and Maron Martell?” Arianne chimed. 

“You thought this through.” Daenerys asserted, her stare locking back with hers.

“I have, your Grace. Do I have your approval?” 

She wondered if it was the desire for vengeance or the looks of Maron or even her poetic mention of their names similar to the ancestors whose marriage was fruitful and loving and ended years of wars between the Martell and the Targaryen, it sounded almost like fate and by all Gods, Targaryen loved their prophecies. But she had it.

“Yes, you have my approval.” Daenerys replied finally, linking her hand with Arianne’s. 

The Dornish smiled at the memory. She looked at the water garden before her balcony spotting Mykal, her oldest son, meditating next to the pool. He was the calmest and wisest of her sons, despite his young age which were good qualities for a monarch. And he was betrothed to Missandei. 

She smirked, thinking of all the glory they would have as the King and Queen of Westeros one day. It was time she deployed her conquest plans. 

***

“I give you ten gold honors for it.” 

Jon contemplated the offer. Ten gold honors were enough to last him a month, maybe two if he fasted. But it was unworthy of the dragon glass dagger he was selling. 

“Another merchant offered me fifty. You must be scamming me.” He lied but he learned how to lure merchants over time. He even picked up the locals’ solemn and fearful appearance –through his brooding had a lot of merit in that- and had become fluent in the Asshai language, perfectly hiding his thick northern accent. 

“Far from me the want to scam you.” The merchant’s voice trembled, eyes avoiding the threatening gaze and landing on the growling beast standing next to him. They were both frightening to him. “But I have little gold, please-” 

“Maybe you should buy a mere silver knife then.” Jon interrupted him. He had little patience and was unaffected by the buyer’s lies. 

The man looked hesitantly at the dagger. It was a fine one. Wrought by Gendry Baratheon almost sixteen years before. The man had even carved a direwolf head on the handle. It was a very refined job. There was no doubt in that. In Westeros, it would be worth much more than what he was suggesting. Stories were still being told about the long night and the heroes that fought in it. People needed to believe in those with the little faith they held for the reigning lords. 

The merchant slipped his hand inside his pocked and pulled a bag full of gold. Jon took it from him and counted them one by one. Fifty gold honors. 

“The dagger is yours.” He pushed the item to the man who was more than eager to take it and run away. All the people who came there wanted to spend as little time as possible. They came to Asshai because it often had the rarest goods in all Essos and Westeros but the heavy and wicked air in the city was only bearable for its inhabitants. And he had become one of them. 

He put the bag in his pocket and left the night market with Ghost strolling by. There were very few lights in his path but nothing he wasn’t accustomed to. He had walked weeks in the dark winter beyond the wall, no place could compare to it. At least his feet couldn’t freeze here. 

He had come few years before. Winter had been harsh and rough but ever since that night, he had fought hard each day. Not only for him but for the free folk who looked up to him. His life was no longer his. It never was. It took him a while but he had finally reconciled with the truth his parentage held. He was the product of one of the bloodiest war Westeros had known and as much as he hated that fact, he felt it was his duty to redeem his parents’ sin, as much as he was capable of. 

So he travelled in the deepest places beyond the wall in search for fertile lands but the winter was thriving. Then he requested to visit the North and asked his Queen sister that she help him guide the people to welcoming lands, but she reminded him of the hate the northerners held for the wildlings and didn’t intend to appeal to them, even with all the help the same wildlings offered in saving Winterfell twice. She didn’t want to defy those who supported her. Jon understood her fear but loathed her selfish motives. So, he tried to help his people differently. Essos would be more welcoming to non-titled folks. 

He started by selling a fur then a golden necklace before realizing it was the Dragonglass and Valyrian steel that were the most valuable there. The gold he collected every time helped him buy farming lands and allow the freefolk to finally settle and live well. It should have felt fulfilling but he still sensed that there was something more he had to do. 

Tormund would tell him he had already done the most by saving all of them from the wights but he couldn’t let himself hold all the credits for that. If it wasn’t for her help and his sister’s, they would all be dead. People mostly remembered the latter but he knew the former deserved all the recognition. 

There were days he would think little of her, it would heal his heart a bit. But then he would remember her voice, her laughter and the loving gaze she held for him and every effort to forget her would go to waste. And the adoration she had in Essos didn’t help in that. 

Everywhere he went, she was painted on the walls, carved in the stones and sang of in the tales. Some people would even tattoo her dragons on their skin. It wasn’t practical to see her everywhere. At first it consumed him but slowly, he found a certain comfort in seeing and hearing about her. She was still alive in their minds and his. And she had the love Westeros denied her. 

But it also meant he had to double efforts to hide his identity. If they were to know their mhysa’s murderer walked among them, they would’ve stabbed him more violently than his men did at Castle Black. 

So, he died his hair in purple and let himself continuously tan overtime. And he hid in the least visited and inhabited city all over Essos. 

When he walked toward his cabin on the beach, he noticed a light in a cave hundreds of meters away. Maybe someone camping there. He had yet to warn them to avoid any fruit or fish caught in the area. Or to even stay in a cave to begin with. He had never gone to one and preferred to avoid any too secluded place in Asshai. 

Ghost beat him to it and raced toward it. He moved faster, calling his wolf. He couldn’t predict how the persons there would react to his giant beast. However, there was no one. 

When he entered, the only thing inside was a half circular fire and a golden stone. He studied the surroundings suspiciously but found nothing else. Maybe a witch had come to practice her magic and left the fire lightened. He had better leave the place before it lingered on him. 

He called Ghost but the wolf only strolled closer to the fire before sitting next to the stone. The wolf never did anything defying him so thinking he had a reason, Jon stepped near him and slowly comprehended what was before him. 

The stone was scaled and was shaped like an egg. A dragon egg. 

His eyes widened in amazement as he got on one knee and touched the small shape. It was warm, burning even but for the first time in his life, heat felt good on his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I took this long to update this even tho I had prepared a chapter a while ago. I would lie if I said comments didn't mentally affect me, even when moderated. I've never had this kind of backlash with my previous fic so I wasn't prepared aha. Then I went on vacation so I didn't find time to write or post. But some "constructive" comments helped me reflected on my plot and give me some more ideas. And I needed time to develop those. I've also remembered I had some love for Jon (you know before season 8 ruined it). 
> 
> I'm satisfied so far with the outcome I have now in mind, so I might not read comments so it affects neither my writing nor my mental health ;) hope you enjoy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Westeros is starving. A young stag holds hope. Jon sees his fate.

The sun was shining bright on his face but he fought to not open his eyes, wanting to sleep some more. He felt a sudden wetness on his sleeping blouse, wine from his cup he held close annoying him but still keeping him from opening his eyes. He was sensing an intense headache and that made him want to stay longer in his bed. Having a heavy woman’s arm over him didn’t help either. 

“My Lord?” A knock on his door pulled him from his forced stupor. He sighed, bothered and rose, holding his head with one hand and pushing the whore’s arm with another. 

He jumped off the bed and walked to the door, opening it. 

“What is it?” He did nothing to hide his irritation, his blood pounding in his head from the amount of alcohol he had the night before. Or till early in the morning. 

“The Queen of the North is here. She demands to speak with you.” The steward answered, avoiding his eyes and holding his breath. 

I must reek, Tyrion thought. “Tell her she can demand a later hour of the day.” 

“She said it was urgent, my Lord.” 

The hand wanted to give an excuse but he knew the woman. She was persistent. She could ignore the steward and come all the way to his chambers. And she knew her way around the keep. 

“Tell her I’m on my way.” He closed the door, groaning as he made his way to the dressing room, hoping his perfume would be strong enough to hide his drunk smell. 

The Queen was still as pretty as he could recall. She had few lines and wrinkles of worry but it hadn’t taken anything away from her beauty. Her hair was still full and bright red, her skin milky and her frame thin but well maintained. However, the dark circles under her blue icy eyes didn’t escape his attention. She was tired and seeing as she clung her fingers onto her dress, anxious. 

“How are you, your Grace?” He asked, pouring her wine that she soon declined. 

“Tyrion, my people are starving.” She spat, angry. 

“And so? Your people are part of the North Kingdom, your Kingdom.” He pointed, bringing the rejected cup to his mouth. “It is outside the King’s responsibility.” 

“Your King has prevented other cities from trading with us. Our waters are frozen and our livestock is thinning.” 

“The King, your bother, has given orders to the lords of the six Kingdoms. How that should affect yours is only your concern.”

“My brother died the day he went beyond that bloody wall.” She hissed, frustrated. 

Tyrion gazed at her. The Sansa he knew was poised, calm and proud. The woman before him was anything but that. She was exhausted, both physically and mentally. 

“I’m sorry you’re going through these hardships, your Grace.” He told her, genuinely concerned. “But there is really nothing I can do. You’re not the first to send letters. I’ve been receiving many from Storm’s End and Riverrun. Everyone is suffering with these reforms but there is nothing much we can do in King’s Landing.” 

He paused, pouring himself another drink. 

“I’m afraid even to try the waters and have been only drinking wine as you can see. I might just fall to my death some days.” He sneered, gulping his cup. 

“You might have a chance with the Iron Islands if you don’t mind dried fish and seaweed. But if you’d prefer proper food, maybe try out with Dorne. They have built a wall around themselves and rumour has it that they don’t suffer one bit from this starving era.” 

He had hoped to bring that Kingdom to share some of their food stocks but Arianne Martell was persistent in ignoring his demands. And he could do nothing about it with the wall built around Dorne’s frontiers and the spiders waiting for any Westerosi boat that would dare approach their coast. He tried ordering the remaining kingdoms to send their armies to take the city but no one wanted to hear a thing from the King or his Hand. He couldn’t blame them. His reforms have drowned the realm into misery. 

“Tyrion, you know we can’t keep up with this. This King you chose is killing us.” Sansa snapped, trying to get his attention.

“You chose him as well, your Grace.” She won’t manipulate me, he convinced himself. “But then, how would you suggest we do?” He asked her, hoping she would get straight to the point. 

“We can tell the truth.” She replied, calm. 

The truth, he pondered, the one they both chose to bury fifteen years before. It had helped them at first. He had gotten to live like a Lord in King’s Landing and take back Casterly Rock as the Hand of the King and she had kept the North for herself. But that eventually got them to the brink of the catastrophe. And revealing the truth now wasn’t without risk for them. 

“What will you say when they ask us why you waited this long?” 

“We will come up with something but Tyrion, please, stop him.” 

Here she was again, he realized, asking others to dirty their hands while she watched. She had done it with him, she had done it with Jon. And here she was, trying again to make others do the deed while she kept herself clean from sins. 

“I am sorry, your Grace. But you’re asking the wrong person.” He stood up annoyed, taking his cup of wine with him as he walked away. “You might have better chances asking one of your proud loyal Lords.” 

“They’re not loyal.” 

They both turned around at the familiar voice they feared so much. 

“Your Grace.” Tyrion bowed awkwardly. 

“Bran.” Sansa greeted, clumsily. 

“Your Lords are plotting your murder.” The King added, calm. 

“You can’t come back to Winterfell.” The Hand turned around, worrying despite his bitter feelings toward the woman. She stared back at him, pale and anxious. 

‘Dorne’ she mouthed in despair before leaving the room. 

***

“Ned, please stop!” Gendry yelled, uneasy. Eddard barely turned around as he stormed into his room and grabbed his bag. 

“Or what?” He asked with complete calmness before turning around and facing his father. 

“Ned, I’m asking you to stop for your own good. You don’t understand the dangers you may face.” Gendry was only a bastard when he had to travel all around Westeros and yet, his father’s name brought death to his path. Eddard in comparison was known to be his trueborn son and future Lord of Storm’s End. 

“We’re already in danger father.” The younger replied, determined. “Our harvest has been thin and disease keeps killing our people, even the strongest.” There was a despair in his eyes. The boy cared a lot for his people. He wondered from where he had gotten such quality. It couldn’t be from him or his mother. Maybe his uncle, he thought.

“And you think taking a boat God knows where will save them?” 

“I don’t but I have no other options here. Maybe if I get finally my hands on mother, she might come back and use her assassin skills for the realm’s good.” He spat, losing patience. 

There was no way he would find her, Gendry knew. The last time he had seen her was when she came back from the west with a round tummy fifteen years before. She stayed for about a month then left him with a new born child. She never intended to be found by him or their son. He had no idea where she could be. She could even be already dead. 

He quickly chased the thought from his mind. As much as he loathed her for abandoning their child, he couldn’t disregard the love he had for her. Not when she was all over Eddard. He had her face, her hair and even her swordplay’s passion. 

If being a Baratheon wasn’t enough to bring threats, Eddard would also face people who gained a lot in capturing a Stark. Especially in Essos. 

“You do realize you’re talking about murdering the King? And you know you will never find her.” Gendry reminded him, trying to get a hold of his arm. 

“That King has been murdering all of us, father. Ever since you all chose him, he has been poisoning our grain and water. Only the wealthiest gets to live for the short remaining time. And I don’t deserve to take Storm’s End one day if I don’t fight for the less wealthy, regardless of the crime it implicates.” Eddard sighed, fighting to hide his growing sorrow. 

Reluctantly, his father freed his arm and cupped his face. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop him. He might as well counsel him. 

“What have you planned?” 

The boy couldn’t hide his hopeful smile. His father was finally ready to listen. 

“I will take a boat from north east, this will allow me to start with Braavos and avoid all the while taking a dangerous road south and face the Dornish. Mother learned from the Faceless Men in Braavos. She might have come back there. Either way, I will start my voyage from there. If I don’t find anything about her, I will travel to the cities freed by Queen Daenerys.” 

“What?” Gendry yelled, frightened. He was hoping his son would avoid any danger but the boy was running right into his death. 

Eddard only chuckled before continuing. “I know they hate my uncle there but I don’t intend to reveal my Stark side. They will know me as Eddard Baratheon only, son of Gendry Baratheon who was legitimatized by their late adored Queen.”

“But what do you intend to do there?” His father was growing anxious by the minute. 

“Then I will offer a marriage alliance to the first wealthy person who seeks vengeance.”

“The first person? What if it’s a man?” The older was trying to laugh about it but deep down he wanted his son to face all the damn holes in his plan. 

“As I said, I have little options here.” Eddard smiled but did little to act disappointed. 

There was no stopping him, Gendry knew that. But he could do with a little help. 

“Take Ser Aristan Selmy with you. He will protect you.” 

His son raised a brow, not appreciating the little help. “You do realize I’m very trained in swordplay and can fend for myself?”

“And you do realize I’m still your Lord father and won’t let you take the dragonglass you were intending to trade if you don’t obey.” 

Eddard was startled at his father’s right assumption. 

“Well, I guess I don’t have a choice then.” He said, defeated but not without stepping in and hugging his father.  
“You don’t.” Gendry embraced him tightly. His son was young but he had inherited the wisdom of his Stark grandfather and the intelligence of his mother. Although he often sounded reckless, he knew the man would prevail far from home. “But I order you to come back safe. And with a partner.” He teased him gaining a wholehearted laugh from him. 

“I might bring you the prettiest princess of all Essos.” Eddard winked before hugging his father back, one last time. 

***

The sky was red with smoking clouds. Flaming rocks fell with ferocious pace yet it looked slow in his sight, magnificent even. Crumbled towers rose around him, dark stones finding their place in their walls. A burning smell was filling his nose and it was inebriating, exalting even. The volcano before him was roaring, trembling, shaking everything beneath it, him with it. Yet, he never felt so stable, so at place. 

The chaos surrounding him barely frightened him, if anything, he was embracing it. He kept walking closer, surprisingly knowing his way in the rising foreign alleys. 

‘closer’ the hot air whispered to his ears and he complied. The golden egg in his hands was burning and it comforted him in his steps. He was bringing it home, no, he was bringing both of them home.

He never saw the city he was in yet it felt like home, deep inside him, impregnated on his skin, cursing through his veins. 

Lava touched his feet, reducing his boots to nothingness but his skin was unharmed, cleansed even. It filled him with such comfort, he held the egg close to his chest, hugging it and almost sensing a heartbeat inside it. 

‘closer’ something else whispered to him, voice soft and gentle. The volcano surface was only few feet away. If he could come just close enough, he would see the source of the voice. 

His face was suddenly wet with warm water. He jolted out, realizing he had fallen asleep in the hot bath. It was just a dream, Jon thought, wiping his eyes. Yet it felt so vivid to him, he could even still feel the heat on his skin. He glanced down to his lap, staring at the golden egg under the water. It almost shone. Taking it in his hands, he examined it, dazzled by how warm it was, similar to the way it was in his dream. 

“I’m becoming crazy, am I not?” He asked out loud, taking a look at his sleeping wolf. He chuckled, feeling dumb. 

“Seeing an existing city you’ve never visited is far from a sign of madness.” An unfamiliar voice with a thick volantis accent asserted. 

Jon searched for it before his eyes landed on a figure before him. A tall bald man was sitting far before him, the light reflecting on the water revealing the flaming tattoos on his cheeks.

“Who are you? And How do you-” 

“I’m Benerro, King Aegon Targaryen. I saw it in my sleep as well. I saw you, walking in the rising alleys of Valyria, guided by the roar of the mountain.” The man simply answered much to Jon’s bewilderment. He knew of his dream and he knew of his name. And that much represented danger to him. He was in Great Moraq, still in Essos and anyone knowing his identity there meant death. 

“Your secret is safe with me. But your fate will soon be known.” He replied to his unasked question. “I came as soon as I saw you finding your dragon in the flames. So many great things still await you.” 

Jon chuckled, laughed out loud. “Another fucking priest seeing things in flames.” He sneered, angry he had to deal again with these useless child tales. “Last time I let someone make me think I had such great things I ended up killing the woman I loved and exiled in fucking nowhere so please spare me this bloody shit.” He rose from the bath, exasperated.

“Yet she lives.”

Jon shifted, it couldn’t be, no, this man was playing with his mind. 

“Lightbringer lives and still waits for Azor Ahai to join her and yield her.” 

He was making a fool out of him and he was fed up with people playing tricks on him. He turned around and walked toward the man, gripping his throat and pulling him out of water. He was much taller but so light, he rose him above him, his feet barely touching the ground of the pool. 

“I thought for so long she was Azor Ahai but it was you all along.” The bald man kept blabbering, seeming unaffected by the closing hand on his throat. “And when you plunged a dagger in her heart, she became the most powerful sword to ever grace this world. She is Lightbringer, your burning sword but your partner as well. Your fate lies by her side.” 

Jon was fuming by then, though deep down he wanted to believe this man. If there was a tiny hope she could still be alive, he would drop everything and sail toward her, just to be able to see her, even if that meant she would execute him the second she’d see him. 

“Why should I believe you? I don’t know you and for all I know, you could be messing with my mind and slitting my throat the next minute.” 

“Allow me to prove myself, my King.” The priest whispered, his voice becoming faint in his throat. 

Jon dropped him without delicacy, watching as the man fell in the water and grasped for air before staring back at him, still holding that fearless gaze. He got up then, and opened one hand, fire suddenly appearing in its grasp. Jon stepped away at the sudden heat, gaining a smile from the priest. 

“You should know by now fire cannot burn you. You were reborn as unburnt years ago at the wall.” 

He was wary of this Benerro but there was some truth to his words. That night he held the warm egg for the first time, it didn’t burn him. And when he stepped in the hot bath this morning, the heat only comforted him when he could swear bathes in Winterfell less hot than this would’ve scorched his skin back when he was a child. 

He stepped back near the man and touched the flame in his hand. And he saw her. Beautiful as ever. She was wearing a pale silk gown as she climbed down off Drogon. The latter had grown much bigger, maybe five times more. They were in a familiar place. The same place he had just seen in his dream although alleys and roads there were clear of walls and towers. But it was the same place, Valyria the priest had told him. 

“How can I believe this is the truth and not some illusion?” 

“You would have to sail all the way to Meereen to find for yourself, my King.” Benerro answered, closing his hand and engulfing the fire in it. 

Nothing guaranteed the man showed the real Daenerys. Valyria was unapproachable, even Balerion the Dread wasn’t immune to its horrors. There was no way this vision or his dream could come to truth.

But he had already witnessed the most impossible thing. He was brought back to life after so many stabbing wounds. That much defied any logic he lived by. 

For all he knew though, the man was maybe tricking him with an illusion. He didn’t know why or how, but he held little trust for the stranger. 

Yet, a part of him wanted to believe him. Believe she was still alive somewhere on this earth. And he wanted to find her, maybe beg for her forgiveness, or just get a glimpse of her, reminisce her fading face and run away again, able to treasure his memories with her with a fresh sight. 

“Show me the way.” He asked to a smirking Benerro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started this fic, I had actually little planned scenes for Jon before his encounter with Dany but somehow I'm finding myself writing just as much for him, guess the targ gene in him is calling up to me. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Would love to update more often but work...also have you guessed the upcoming encounters and potential ships *-* ? Beside jonerys, I have 2 more important ones to introduce, and the characters involved have all been introduced *wink*


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys uncovers her power. The twins have unexpected encounters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No jonerys yet but we're getting there. They will meet in the next two chapter (either 6 or 7)
> 
> Warning:  
-Un-betaed  
-No direct twins incest but indirect? They pretty much don't interact in this chapter but there are still mentions of their unbrotherly love in their individual povs tho nothing explicitly sexual

The earth beneath her bare feet felt warm and soft. It felt the same way the first and last time she had come there. The first time, Drogon brought her there. This time, she did.

Her dream was still vivid.

“The magic of Old Valyria flows through your touch. You were reborn in it and it will follow you wherever you go. Learn how to use it.”

Could it be true? That she could wield and control Valyrian magic. That coming all the way to the most dangerous place in the realm, the one even Balerion the Dread barely survived would bring some sort of powers in her. It was absurd yet she was tempted to try.

Even with all the stories she had been told about this place, she couldn’t help but feel safe there. It was there that she had been reborn, brought back from death, along with her unborn twins and her five hatchlings.

Daenerys stared at the burnt dark ruins around her, only fireflies lightening them up in the dark night. It was a mesmerizing sight to her. She stepped further on the land, leaving Drogon behind her. She almost knew her way in between ancient alleys and roads.

_Daenerys_

She heard a faint and gentle voice whisper to her ears. Fireflies moved before her, bringing light to her way.

_īlva riña_  
_ (our child)_

More voices called. She advanced, following their sound. There was something enthralling in the way they called her their child as if they had known her. As if they were her family. And they did and were. She could tell the more she marched in the once city, feet dirtier with earth than ash. There was life beneath her.

_īlva dāria_  
_ (our queen)_

She stopped amidst a tall two doors portal, depicting dragons emerging from an erupting volcano. It was intact, immaculate compared to the rest of the city. It was a wonder it had even survived the doom. It had even stayed closed. She pushed softly on one of the doors, opening it before stepping inside.

The room behind it was spacious, floor and walls made of rich stone. They were mostly broken but she could still spot the engravings in them. There were scenes of a story. A mixed army, soldiers in their armour, women holding knives, old men carrying heavy swords, even children gripping onto small daggers, all advancing before four dragons and their four riders, two women and two men, all wearing crowns. Behind that army, behind a wall, a rival king sat in his wooden throne without a crown.

In the next scene, two of the dragon riders were on the ground, their dragons left behind while they fought the approaching army, one of the remaining dragons with their male rider was burning the wall while the other dragon floated in the air, his female rider motionless.

It was odd to Daenerys. They could take the whole army with one dragon and yet, there was two fighting without them while another was burning the wall. She was more confused searching for the next scene but it had been smashed. She looked around and found only another one. The female rider who had stayed motionless was standing before the crownless King, her eyes encrusted with blue sapphires while a couple, resembling each other approached the rival.

She looked up, hoping to find another scene but was faced with a high-water pond. It was clear and reflected the stars in the sky until it reflected her face as she peered into it. And then she spotted the same colour she had seen encrusted in the stone under her feet, the same she had seen in the Night King’s stare. Blue sapphires in her eyes.

_īlva ñellyarlinio dāria_  
_ (our warg queen)_

***

“Your left is open.” Elarys yelled, launching her spear toward the meerenese princess.

“Not anymore.” A sweating Missandei counterattacked, putting her spear before her and catching in time her cousin’s.

“Not bad.” Elarys smirked, before attempting another push downward and failing. She was on the dusty ground with Missandei’s spear one inch away from her neck.

“Some would even say better than you.” It was the princess’ turn to smug.

“Your sister is getting better in approached combat.” Arianne stated, handing a filled cup of red wine to Rhaegal as they both sat in the shadow watching the two girls fight continuously under the sun.

“Indeed.” The boy beamed, pride all over his face. Their mother had introduced combat lessons early on in their education. No one was free from it, not even Daeron and Jaehaerys, who would soon start theirs. All they had to do was pick the weapon the preferred in fighting though they all had the basics for hands free combats. “Just in case” Daenerys had justified.

Visenya’s weapon was swords, Missandei was spears –Arianne insisted her favourite niece learned her lessons in Sunspear- while his was archery and spearing, the latter he had learned with Grey Worm, his mother’s master of war and closest friend, though he sometimes enjoyed watching the Dornish techniques. Here it looked more like a dance rather than a combat. The fighters had an unmeasurable grace and sensuality in their movements. Their swaying seemed effortless but there was no denying, it was a deadly tango.

“She might surpass you.” Arianne teased, swallowing a bit of her drink.

“Then I should learn your techniques to make sure she never does so.” He responded with a smug, his eyes challenging the older.

He had grown used to his conversations with her. Once a week, he flew all the way to Sunspear to bring Missandei with their dragons to her lessons and her tea gatherings with her grand aunt or her betrothed. It was the safest and fastest way to bring her there. She was still too young to go that far on her own and Daenerys had tasked him with her protection.

She never wanted to fly to Westeros while Visenya had crown matters to attend in Essos. So, the task befell on him. Not that he complained.

Dorne was a beautiful country with beautiful women –though none matched the beauty of his twin sister- and delicious wine. And he had picked an interested in their spearing techniques.

“Should I teach you then?” Arianne suggested, sensually whispering.

And he liked the simple attention he got there. In Meereen, he was the Queen’s beloved son, the one who would carry the Targaryen legacy and who would one day be her heir. But in Sunspear, in Arianne’s royal court, he was just the handsome and attractive Rhaegal. If only Visenya could see him in a simple light too.

“It would be an honour.” He smirked at the woman, holding her hand, wishing his sister was the one being bold and seductive with him.

“Your grace, I am sorry to interrupt but there is an important intruder at the wall.” A guard interrupted them much to the woman’s annoyance.

“How should that concern me? Your commander should know how to deal with them.” She responded.

“They say they’re from the North, your Grace. They say they’re the Queen in the North.”

Arianne and Rhaegal both unlocked hands and shot their eyes up at the guard.

“Lady Stark is here?” The Dornish princess asked and the guard nodded.

“Looks like you’re meeting your aunt for the first time.” She smirked and Rhaegal could see she had an idea, a vicious one, in her mind.

Daenerys had never spoken about her. In fact, she had barely spoken about their father or his family for that matter. The only times he heard of them was through secretly heard conversations in Sunspear court, usually mocking his crippled uncle who was King of Westeros or his stupidly hopeful aunt who thought she could hold the North independence without any help. Or that she had manipulated his mother’s advisors. For that, Rhaegal never held love for the family he never knew, yet he found himself curious, excited even to meet this aunt of his.

Sansa Stark was completely different from what he had imagined. He thought he would’ve found some of his features or even Visenya’s who looked so different in her. But was as if she barely shared any blood with their supposed father.

She was beautiful despite the worry and tired wrinkles around her eyes. Her hair was of a bright red and contrasted with the dark dress she wore. Her icy eyes never left his, confusion and fear written all over her face.

“Lady Stark, what brings you all the way to Dorne?” Arianne asked from her throne, fake amicability in her voice. Rhaegal was standing next to her in the solar.

“It is Queen of the North, Lady Martell. I come to ask for your help. The North is starving.”

“Lady Stark.” Arianne insisted, mockingly. “I’m afraid I can’t help you, we only serve one King and he’s in King’s Landing.” On paper, it was true. In current and recent circumstances, it was all but a lie. Dorne had never served King Bran. “I suggest you seek his help instead.”

“The King won’t help the North.” Sansa replied and Rhaegal could sense irritation in her voice, either from Arianne’s answers to her or from the fact she couldn’t get help from her own brother.

“Then I guess there is nothing that can be done.” The Dornish princess was enjoying this encounter, Rhaegal almost felt pity for his aunt.

“Please, I beg you, it won’t survive.”

He was surprised at the sudden begging, it seemed even Arianne was. The woman had seemed proud and poised, however he guessed not even pride could be kept when your kingdom was starving.

“There is nothing I can do for you, Lady Stark.” Arianne was merciless. “Maybe you can ask Queen Daenerys Martell. She seems to have a weak spot for the beggars.”

Sansa’s eyes widened at that, both startled and humiliated at the name used for her. Rhaegal knew how vicious Arianne could be to her enemies though he had hoped she left his mother out of the matter.

“Rhaegal could even bring you to her today. After all, you’re family.” Arianne mocked and Rhaegal wasn’t sure of how he wanted to kill her then.

The stories about his aunt were enough to know his mother couldn’t hold any love for this woman. Bringing her to Meereen would only cause her pain. Yet spending all that time with someone as scheming as Arianne Martell brought an idea to his mind.

“She is.” He asserted confident, causing both women to jolt. Arianne was probably disappointed he hadn’t caused a scene while his aunt was going through many emotions at the same time.

“I don’t understand, you can’t be family, Daenerys is-”

“Queen Daenerys is alive and well.” Rhaegal interrupted her, voice calm, before stepping and coming to stand in front of her. He was slightly taller than her. “And I am her son and your nephew, prince Rhaegal Targaryen.” He added as he took her cold hand in his and kissed it.

***

The heat in Astapor would’ve been unbearable hadn’t she ditched her pants this morning. She had hesitated, seeing the clouds in the meereenese sky, it gave her an uncertain feeling. Still she rode Meraxes to Astapor with Grey Worm and some of the guards. There she would conduct the usual meetings with the current chosen King about the grain trade, the number of weaponry they needed and matters of the population’s general health and wellbeing, Daenerys had insisted on that.

Visenya didn’t mind, those meeting with the Essosi Lords were a fine distraction from a certain annoying pretty faced twin brother. And it was her duty. When she could, she would fly every day of the week to a different city and check matters there. She loved socializing, discussing important issues and mostly, giving her help. There was nothing she loved more than helping others.

When meetings were finished early, she would let herself walk around the streets and talk with the people, ask for their needs, help a small shop or more and sometimes, even stop and play with kids, often she would teach them swordplay. That was another thing she loved. Adored even. She just hated it was nothing more than play most of the time.

She had only started fighting in real combat one year prior, when her mother allowed her and Rhaegal to follow her to a sieged defenceless island. The attackers at the time were pirates who managed to pay enough young men in their way to surround Ghaen and were sacking it.

Since they had already gone inside, the use of dragon fire was risky, and they had all resorted to the use of their own steel weapons. Daenerys and Visenya had used their swords while Rhaegal carried his spear. The accomplishment she had felt that day as she saved all those people and put a stop to the pirates’ crimes was indescribable. She sought for more.

“How much are you peaches, Sir?” Visenya asked an old fruit merchant down the street she had been walking in for a while. Grey Worm and the guards were nearby.

“For you, it is free.” The old man genuinely smiled at her, handing her a ripe peach.

“Please, I couldn’t.” Visenya blushed, uneasy, holding the peach gratefully while fishing for coins in her small bag.

“Are two silvers enough, Sir?” A foreign voice startled her. She shot up to see its source and found a young man, a bit taller than her but shorter than Rhaegal. His hair and eyes were of a deep brown and judging by the white of his skin, he was no local.

“That is very kind of you.” The merchant accepted the coins given to him and handed them enough peaches for two silvers, which was about ten. “Your husband is very generous, my Lady.” He added, adding to her blush.

“He’s not m-”

“Thank you, my wife and I will enjoy these peaches.” The stranger chuckled, ensuring her flushing red face.

They were steps away from the merchant when he spoke to her. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t miss the chance of being associated to a woman as beautiful as you.” Now he was blushing. Clearly his first time pulling a trick like that. Or his first time facing a woman like her. She was aware of her effect on men, even the most attractive, and this one was part of the latter.

“It’s understandable.” She laughed. “But please, never try that ever again.” She warned.

“Well I hope I won’t have to try it again, with you.” He teased.

“Bold, aren’t we?”

“Not always, I can’t help it though when I’m faced with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

She was laughing now. Usually she’d hate this kind of advances but there was something genuinely charming about the man before her.

“You won’t stop, will you? Sir…”

“Baratheon, Eddard Baratheon. But you can call me Ned.” He beamed innocently. It was refreshing not seeing that confident smug of her brother.

“Nice to meet you Ned. I am Visenya Tar-Martell.” She cursed herself for almost making a mistake. While Lords she dealt and people of Meereen knew exactly to which house she belonged, she couldn’t risk revealing the Targaryen name in the streets.

“Are you Queen Daenerys Martell’s daughter?” He asked startled, a hint of hope in his eyes.

“I am.” She replied hesitantly.

“This is such an honour to meet you, your Grace. While travelling here, I heard amazing stories about the Queen. At first, I thought they were talking about the late Queen but then I heard her last name was Martell, yet still, she was just as noble as Queen Daenerys Targaryen.”

Visenya chuckled internally. If only he knew they were the same.

“You knew the late Queen? I thought you’d be too young to know anything about her.”

“How can I not? My father never ceases to speak kindly of her. She gave him his title when he was considered a bastard.”

The princess gasped, but was reassured. Maybe she could trust him.

“She did?”

“Yes. He also never stopped talking about how without her, they would’ve never won the fight against the dead.”

By then, Visenya was now jealous this man knew more about her mother’s past than her. She never shared about her time in Westeros. However, if she could bring someone from there who held her dear in his eyes, maybe she would open up, she wondered.

“Do you want to meet her?” She whispered, biting her lips, hoping he understood her hint.

“But she’s-”

“Alive.” She leaned in and murmured in his ear and she could swear, his hair stood straight on his skin. When she stepped back, his cheeks were of a light shade of pink.

“I would love to meet her.” Ned managed to mumble gaining a wide smile from her. She really hoped her mother would be pleased with this surprise.

“Meet me on the hill in an hour. Bring all your things with you. We will depart to Meereen together.”

He was confused “But shouldn’t we meet at port instead? It would be faster by boat.”

“We will ride my dragon.” She smirked and had to hold her lips corners from spreading wider as the man struggled to hold himself together.

“On the hill, then.” He whispered. “In an hour.” He promised before they separated.

Visenya was enjoying that encounter. She now just had to go to the hill with Grey Worm and the guards and wait for Ned.

“Daenerys?” A husky voice pulled her from thoughts and the face she found before her stopped her heartbeats.

It was impossible, unimaginable, it couldn’t be, she wanted to yell.

He looked like her. His hair was purple and his eyes were grey but he was her splitting image, the same face she saw every morning in the morning. Or rather she was his splitting image.

“No, you’re not.” He answered himself and she could see he shared her confusion.

Grey Worm suddenly appeared between them, pulling his spear and ready to stab the man with it.

“Wait.” She yelled, holding the soldier before he could do anything unrepairable. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“This man stabbed Queen Daenerys. I should have killed him when I had the chance.” Grey Worm spat but still stepped back, respecting Visenya’s order.

The man flinched but didn’t utter a word, confirming the statement.

“That’s not possible, how could he approach her?” She was bewildered. Her mother was never left without guards and she was sure it had been the same in Westeros. Unless he was someone close, someone she trusted more than her guards.

“She trusted him. Jon Snow was her lover. And you father, princess Visenya.”

“My daughter?” The man she now knew as Jon, and her father, murmured, still startled yet she could sense hurt in his voice. He hadn’t known he had a child. But he had murdered her mother when she trusted him. He had murdered her as well while she was in her womb. Yet she still found herself finding him a justification, he hadn’t known, she repeated in her mind.

“I am so sorry, child.” There were tears in his eyes and for a mere second, she wanted to wipe them, tell him she forgave him, tell him she was happy she had finally met him. She was when she saw him. She had been hopeful. All her life she had searched for the face she only saw in the mirror. Rhaegal looked more like Daenerys than she did. Even Missandei, Daeron and Jaehaerys looked more like Daenerys than she did. She held a stranger’s face, a face that sometimes even made her mother tear away her gaze from her and look away in sorrow.

And she had found it. The person whom she looked like, the father she had thought dead. It only took Grey Worm to reveal his dark past for her moment of joy to shatter into million pieces.

“Grey Worm, let’s leave. We shouldn’t make our guest wait. Don’t let him follow us but do not harm him.” She ordered, turning around and hiding the tears flowing on her cheeks, ignoring his repeated calls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice comments are appreciated
> 
> Also if anyone has an inspiration for Valyria, that would be appreciated. I'm struggling to describe the place.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm curious about what you think, no matter how mediocre this is and will be though I really really really have been thinking about this for a long time, I have a main idea of what will happen and how it will develop. So please STAY WITH ME


End file.
